The Price of Knowing a Student
by luvsanime02
Summary: One-shot. Minerva wishes she didn't know Hermione Granger.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own. Rowling holds all rights to the characters.

**AN:** Rated K for general audiences. I have no idea where this one came from. I was bored, and then I was typing. (Edited 12.2013)

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**The Price of Knowing a** **Student** by luvsanime02

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Every time Professor Minerva McGonagall looked at Hermione Granger she was overcome with a wave of pity. So talented, truly the smartest Witch or Wizard to pass the halls of Hogwarts for many generations, yet somehow sorted into Gryffindor. A sense of pride was mixed in there too, that a girl so obviously bright and learned belonged to her house, one of her own. Poor Filius had only needed one week of classes with her before lamenting the loss.

And so alone. It pained Minerva greatly to watch this intelligent, young girl try to make friends, only to be rebuffed every time. That no one her age could truly understand her was a given, but did she have to be ridiculed as well? Minerva could see her confusion every time the girl's help was rebuffed, as she walked away as though unaffected but biting her lip all the same. Helpful, too much so, and labeled a know-it-all. Even Severus talked about the girl's knowledge, if only in the form of scathing sarcasm.

Over-eager because she was afraid of failing. Stand-offish because she was terrified of not belonging in a new world that will become more her own than the one she was born to.

Oh, yes, Minerva's heart ached in sympathy. Every meal, every Transfiguration class, less than even one month into the girl's first year, she could not have reminded Minerva so much of a younger version of herself than if she'd actually tried to. Minerva knew Hermione Granger, better than the girl knew herself she'd wager, knew the long and desperately lonely years that were ahead of her, knew the bitter disappointment at realizing it didn't matter which world you were in, you were still not accepted.

Sometimes, Minerva wondered what Hermione Granger's past had been like. Was it littered with the same sort of cruel children as her own had been? Books were obviously the girl's refuge. Nothing else could explain why she used one as a shield from her fellow classmates during every meal. 'Yes,' Minerva thought, looking at the girl's rather bushy hair and large front teeth, 'this child was always alone.'

And she wondered, with a heavy heart, what will become of Hermione Granger in the future, as the years pass and no one notices her, notices how extraordinary she is, and no one bothers to pull her out of her shell. Her intelligence will be wasted, because there will be no one there to listen. Her books will never satisfy her simple yearning to be understood, to belong.

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Hallowe'en this year, and Minerva has never been so quietly terrified for a student in all of her life. She doesn't know what's happening to her school. A troll let loose in the dungeons by someone, and when she finds out who they _will_ regret endangering her students' lives this way, but…

"Miss Granger, you foolish girl…" and doesn't the child realize she had almost lost her life trying to attack a mountain troll on her own of all the preposterous things!

It doesn't even occur to her until later that night, when she is trying to calm her mind enough to fall asleep, that Hermione Granger _isn't _foolish enough to go after a troll by herself, no matter what she told Minerva. The thought leaves her feeling oddly warm.

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The next day, and Minerva McGonagall is hard-pressed to stop herself from smiling. Broadly. There are no books on the Gryffindor table, and there is no shadow upon Hermione Granger's face. The girl is animated in the way that only comes from human contact, and her eyes are shining brightly enough to rival the morning sunlight.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are sitting across from her, but instead of only talking to each other Hermione Granger is included, sharing smiles and stories and laughter, and Minerva has decided that she doesn't care at all what really happened the day before.

At this time, Minerva does not even care if Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup ever again, because suddenly she does not know Hermione Granger, does not see herself in the girl. There is no sorrow, no pain. This girl will not grow up isolated and lost. She will not cry herself to sleep every night wondering why no one would ever look at her, let alone talk to her. It will not take this girl almost thirty years of life and sorrow and a change in career to find someone who appreciates her as herself. Hermione Granger will not grow up to consider the very traits that make her so unique nothing but a burden.

Minerva glances over at Albus, who is of course looking back, eyes twinkling as he too takes in the new way of things. Despite their difference in years, despite the fact that Minerva thinks surely Albus must be not a little crazy, she raises her goblet infinitesimally and allows a small smile to finally blossom on her face, acknowledging that, sometimes, her best friend knew what he was doing. Happier than she's been since the start of term, Minerva cannot help but relish six and a half more years of not knowing Hermione Granger.


End file.
